


Tonight, we're going to do a whole lot of sinning.

by ThatIsTheOsbornWay



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal, Anal Sex, Bottom Dean, Church Sex, Demon Dean, Demon Dean Winchester, Demon!Dean, DemonDean, Destiel - Freeform, Dom!Cas, Dom/sub, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Needy bottom dean, Oral, Oral Sex, Porn, Porn with some plot, Priest Castiel, Priest Kink, Priest!Cas, Shameless Smut, Smut, Top Castiel, blowjob, human!Cas, lmao help, sub!cas, virgin, virgin Cas, virgincas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-11-01 06:28:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10916214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatIsTheOsbornWay/pseuds/ThatIsTheOsbornWay
Summary: “Pray,” Dean whispers to Castiel, gaze lustful as his eyes wander the mans side profile. “Pray for forgiveness, because tonight... tonight we're going to do a whole lot of sinning."-----Literally just Demon Dean and Priest Cas going at it in a church cuz I'm a huge sinner thanks.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a rp I have on IG so ignore different point of views and all that jazz

Castiel was raised in the church. His parents, devout Catholics who never missed a Sunday, and always gave tribute no matter the hard times they faced-of which there were many.  
As Castiel grew older he was not without his time of doubts, time of rebellion and even mischief but he had found his way back to the church, back to where he thought he belonged. He became a priest, and finally made his parents proud-they had always wished for him to become a man of the cloth.  
The church that Castiel became assigned was small, but it was comfortable and the people were generally kind, and soon he fell into a routine-taking care of the church, writing his sermons, and preaching them to his congregation, and then of course there was the Sacrament of Penance. Confessions were always Castiel's favorite part of the job, it was were he felt he most connected with those in his parish, where he felt that he did the most good  
\- it was were people were at their most vulnerable and Castiel was there to help them, to assist them to find their way back to God.  
Evening was approaching, the priest had been performing acts of penance in Confession for well over an hour, he always stayed as long as possible so no one that was waiting would be left out. He was just about to head out when he heard someone coming into the small room next to his,separated by a wall with a screen in the middle so the two could hear each other speak. Castiel leans back into his place, glancing towards the screen- he always had a habit of looking towards whoever was speaking, even if he couldn't really see them.  
"Go on, my child." He coaxes.

Dean never really had a purpose, not until the demon possessed him anyway. A mechanic, that's all he was. A mechanic living in a small town in Colorado, repairing cars for people who were mostly passing through and taking care of his father. He graduated from high school with more than average marks, but he couldn't afford college. Dean had the potential but the money just wasn't there. His father became an alcoholic after his mother's passing, and spent all his eldest sons savings on booze and alcohol. When his brother, Sam, was old enough he moved in with their uncle Bobby, unable to exceed around his stubborn father. This left Dean alone. John wasn't much company with always being drunk, and passed out on the couch.  
However, the loneliness went away when the demon possessed Dean. The demon kept him company when no one else would. He couldn't remember when or how he'd been possessed, all he remembered was black smoke. Not only did the demon keep him company but it also made him do things, terrible things. Things Dean could never have imagined doing before. 

One evening John came home piss-drunk from the bar. He began yelling, screaming at Dean, slamming and throwing things. Dean finally snapped, after years of abuse from his father. The demon had finally convinced his host to do something he's only thought about in his darkest moments. At that point, Dean's mind was corrupted and twisted enough by the demon, that he felt no remorse as he sunk a blade in his father's chest. Ever since, he was practically putty in the demons hand, there was no point in fighting the creature, and they went off, committing almost every crime in the book, from burglary to murdering people; men, women, and children. The good thing Dean found out about being possessed was that he never got caught once, the demon always got away.  
Two years had passed with living in harmony with the demon, but now the demon was becoming bored. He wanted to try something different, murder and crime was becoming too frequent. “Let's try something different,” the creature speaks, like a poisoned whisper to Dean's ear. “Something different?” 

The demons silent for several moments before speaking, “I want a priest.”  
Dean does as the demon desires, they share a common mindset by now. They search several towns for a priest, but none are exactly what they're looking for. If the demon were possessing an older meat-suit maybe he wouldn't mind but Dean was young, early twenties, and he didn't want to seduce a forty year old man.

One town they come across, however, has a church with a young priest.  
Dean stays at one of the hotels in town, staying there for a couple days, gathering information on the priest. It was a small town and the waitresses at the local diner loved to gossip, so he was able to uncover loads of information about his new target, Castiel. 

Finally, though, with the demon's patience wearing thin, they decide to strike, and they head to the church late night the next Sunday. He attends the evening sermon at Castiel's church, and waits until everyone's gone before making a move. Dean doesn't go out of his way to be first in line to talk to the priest, instead he sits in the pews and acts as if he's praying. Once everyone has practically left the church, he finally stands and makes his way over to the confessional, entering the small box without hesitation.  
He closes the thin wooden door behind him and slides into the seat.  
Dean doesn't say anything at first, letting several moments of silence fall between them before speaking. “F-father...” he begins, voice breathy, as if he's on the verge of tears. “I've done so many things... so many terrible things over these passed few years, and —” his voice hesitates. Dean turns so he's facing the screen. Lips quirk when the priests silhouette on the other side of the screen catches his eye. “I– I don't know what todo about it, any of it. I want to be forgiven, father. But, I don't know if God can forgive me for what I've done...” he breaths, “ever since my father passed away, it's just gotten worse and worse.”

 

Castiel was often chided by other priests for being too sentimental, too sympathetic. All it took was one small broken word from someone in need and Cas made sure he did everything in his power to help. Other churches, other men, preached about an angry god, fire and brimstone and all that..but Castiel saw God as a much more loving being. Why else would he offer such forgiveness? Why else would he have created humanity?  
Instead of all that fear, Castiel chose to preach the love instead- people had enough fear in their lives already. He beloved the church should be a place of peace and joy, not fear and hatred.  
Castiel listened patiently as the unfamiliar voice spoke- it being a small community the priest had begun to be able to recognize a person by their voice, even though the confessional was meant to be anonymous.

When it seems as if the other has come to a stop Castiel speaks, his voice, though deep, is soft and calm. 

"Our God is a forgiving God." He states, complete confidence that his words were true. "Whatever sins you have committed can be forgiven. Our lord and savior, Christ has taught us that. No sin is too great for his love." He explains, pausing for a moment and glancing at the man's shadow. He couldn't help but to have curiosity for who this stranger was.

This town didn't see many visitors and his church was no exception to this rule. Castiel could only assume that this man must have really needed help. To find a place like this.  
"All you must do is show repentance." He continues, "-tell me, what burdens are these that lay heavy on your heart?"

The demon was silent. Ever since Dean had stepped into the confessional, not a single word was said from the demon. Not a whisper, or a snicker echoed in his mind; the demon was testing him. Leaving him to somehow seduce the priest on his own.  
Dean's lips quirk as the man on the other side of the dark screen begins speaking again. He rolls his eyes at the mentioning of 'God forgives all.' Honestly, Dean didn't believe in any of this religious crap. God never came to save him when his father beat him. No matter how much he prayed as a child, God never came to his rescue, ever. The demon was the one who saved him from the abuse.  
Dean took a moment to think which sin to confess to first. He didn't necessarily want to scare the priest away, let his true colors show just yet.  
“I've hurt people. A lot of people, father,” before continuing, he hunches over, wetting his lips and rests his elbows on his knees. “I remember there was this one guy I met a few years ago. His name was Simon and he was the first person I hurt...” he pauses, “Simon was a good guy. He was a lawyer, and had a wife and two kids. I met him at a local bar, a-and we ended up in bed together,” he places his head between his palms, sighing. “I know it was wrong, but the thing is, father. I liked it. Drunk or not, Simon felt good inside me.”  
A devilish sneer spreads across his mouth as green hues flicker black. “We were seeing each other for about a week. He'd meet me at the hotel after his work shiftand would fuck me. He'd fuck me for hours, then, just leave, and when he was done with me he threw me away like a dirty rag,” Dean's tone of voice was becoming less and less broken the longer he went on. “A fucking rag.” He growls, “would you like to hear what I did to him, father? After he threw me aside.”

 

Most of the people who came into Castiel's confessional had common sins. They gambled on a football game, or took the lord's name in vain, people thought impure thoughts, or got jealous of each other, through it all the priest had yet to be met with something that he couldn't handle.  
Castiel settles back against the wood backing of the cubicle like room, listening as the stranger begins his story, but then the other mentions about going to bed with another man and he sits up straighter, turning to the shadowed male, eyebrows lifting in surprise. The town Castiel was in was small, in size and in mind, and the priest would have to admit he hadn't encountered someone who had admitted to the act of homosexuality, something that /was/ often considered a sin in the eyes of the church.  
Was this God testing him?

Castiel, in his moments of doubts had committed a few indecent acts with the same sex, stolen kisses in the dark. His whole life he had been faced with thoughts that his church taught as sin. When he came back to the Parrish he had asked his forgiveness but no sin came without its trails.  
The stranger's voice was deep, a low rumble and Castiel listened with a newfound curiosity at the story, his mouth going dry...'felt good inside of me' 'fucked me for hours.'

God help him he practically flinches when he growls those curses-and it wasn't because of the words themselves.  
Cas shakes his head, trying to rid the impure thoughts from entering his mind, tries instead to focus on the story itself. So, this stranger had hurt the Simon fellow in some way, Cas wanted to assume that meant he just gave a good beating but something in the other's tone of voice made him think it was a more serious than that.  
He swallows hard past the dryness in his mouth. "Th-.." he clears his throat, trying to not be affected by the other's words but it was a lie to say he wasn't and his cracked voice makes that clear. "The only way to have your sins forgiven...is to confess them.."

The church was silent, the exception being of a low rumbling of thunder coming from outside. Light pitter-pattering of raindrops began tapping against the stained windows, and in the distance lightning flashed across the darkening skies. Dean had noticed the grey clouds coming in on his way over to the church, so the sudden thunderstorm was no surprise. He soundlessly listened to the rainfall hitting the roof of the church as he waited for the priests response to his first confession.  
His emerald irises were drawn to a flash of lightning that illuminated through the Virgin Mary stained window. Dean leaned forward slightly to gaze through the small window located on the door of the confessional booth. However, the sound of the priests stutter made the demon lean back against the wooden bench. Dean nibbled on his bottom lip, tongue rolling over it before continuing his confession.  
“After Simon told me that we couldn't see each other anymore, I followed him home. For a few days I watched him, I watched him with his family, and one evening when he was in the garage I confronted him. One thing led to another and...” Dean pauses, “I grabbed the screwdriver from the toolbox and jabbed it through his throat.” There was little to no emotion in his voice as he speaks. The demon has corrupted Dean to the point where empathy is a non-existence.  
Finally, after a long moment the demon speaks, telling Dean to confess further crimes they've committed. “Simon was the first of many, father. Including my own dad. He was an abusive alcoholic.... and I have to admit he was the only one who truly deserved it.” Dean wraps a hand around his forearm in a long ago memory of his father grabbing him there, a particularly rough beating after John returned from the bar. 

“The one after Simon was a prostitute. Her name was Chastity, or that's the name she gave me. But you see, I wasn't attracted to her like I was to Simon. So, instead of fucking her, I tortured her. Tied her down, and sliced into her flesh, watching the blood seep from wounds... she died two days after I kidnapped her.”  
Dean sighs, “I could go on and on, father, but...” The thunder rumbles outside, and the lights flicker several times inside the church, but they don't go out. “I'm afraid that'd take forever, and I didn't particularly come here to confess.”

 

Rain had always been a soothing sound to Castiel, the sound of it beating down against a rooftop reminded him that he was lucky to have a roof, the sound reminded him that God was giving-rain was healing, rain made the crops grow, it gave the people of the earth drink. He remembered a story from long ago during storms, that thunder and lightning were angels fighting; he always liked that analogy, it was soothing to think that there were such creatures, that they were up there fighting for the greater good. But right now the rain seemed more a ominous sound, a horrifying soundtrack to the man's gruesome story, the thunder a warning-telling him he wasn't safe.  
Castiel covers his hand over his mouth to stifle the sound that bubbles to the surface, something half gasp half whimper. Dread settles in his stomach, like he had swallowed a rock.

A murderer. 

Castiel had been taught that any sin was forgivable under God's good grace...but murder? Torture?  
It not only went against a holy commandment but against every moral one could possibly have. The man didn't even seem guilty about it, he spoke as if he was telling someone about traffic or a topic equally as boring.  
Castiel crosses himself, a quick touch to his forehead, chest, both shoulders, "God help me." He murmurs, breathless and instinctive words. 

This man came to murder  
that's all the priest could think, his heart thud fast in his chest-adrenaline and fear running his veins. It was late and there was no one else left in the church- a relief and a terror, because at least there was no one else the man could hurt, but it also meant Castiel had no one to run to for help. Should he even run? He couldn't imagine that he would get very far, the other male would hear him trying to escape and come after him.

Then again, could it possibly be any better to sit here? Sit here waiting like a fly caught in a web.  
Castiel's fingers wrap tight around the cross on his neck, keeping his ears open for any indication that the man in the other side of the confessional was about to make a move. "...what did you come for, then?"

 

Even as the harsh raindrops smacked against the windows, echoing inside of the church, the demon still managed to hear the small, frightened noises coming from the priest on the other side of the confessional. The thin barrier between them was nothing – if Dean wanted, he could easily tear through and have his way with the priest.  
But, what fun would that be?  
He wanted to take his time with the devout man, and break him, /slowly/. After all, there wasn't any rush... they had all night, and this was nothing but a game to the demon.

“Tell me, father. Are you afraid?” His voice drawn out in a menacing tease. Dean knew Castiel was afraid, however, that didn't stop him from toying with the priest for a bit.  
Slowly, the demon stands up, and swiftly pulls his blade out from underneath his leather jacket. Then, he drags the blade over the wooden mesh of the screen, adding to the sinister sounds from the storm.

“I'm telling you, killing those people – especially the men. Slicing into their flesh and watching the life just... drain from their body,” he hums at the memory, “Mmm, they're the most arousing moments in my life.” 

Dean will never forget the first time he actually took his time with a victim. He had lured the man back to his motel room, tied him to the motel bed. Dean took his sweet time, carving into his flesh while having him inside of him at the same time. Fuck, he remembered every detail of that night.

“Murder,” Dean groans, touching the fabric covering his crotch, “-mmm, it gets me off more then sex. Most of the time anyways.” Suddenly the demon opens the door to the confessional and steps out of the small booth.

“Come out here, father. I want to meet you, face to face.” He practically growls the demand, “I have something I want to show you, and don't even try to run away because I'll catch you.”

Castiel had never known a fear like this, a genuine terror that his life would come to an end this very night.  
He wasn't supposed to fear death, he was supposed to welcome it because it meant he was going back home, to heaven to God...people that taught him such things had obviously never actually been met with the threat.  
Teaching about death and actually experiencing the imminence of it were vastly different things.  
Teaching someone to not be afraid was easy enough to do when your worst fears were commonplace, fear of not being accepted, fear of the dark or of spiders, all his old nightmares seemed suddenly simplistic and stupid. 

This was fear.

 

Castiel's knuckles were white with his tight grip on the crucifix, willing himself not to shake, willing himself to be brave.  
A scraping sound comes from the other side, a knife, the priest realized; and he scoots himself backwards as far as he can go, back pressed against the hard wood..he had never been claustrophobic until this moment. He was stuck, trapped in this small box...all too reminiscent of a coffin.  
He felt sick, nauseous as he listens to the man speak...speak of how the killing...the torture gave him..sexual pleasure. Would this man do the same to him? Take his body..in more ways than one?  
Castiel closes his eyes, whispering to himself to try to drown out the other's words. "Say to those with fearful hearts, Be strong, do not fear; your God will come, he will come with vengeance; with divine retribution he will come to save you. Isaiah chapter thirty-five, verse four." 

He takes a breath, shaky as he hears movement, the murderous stranger was in front of his door-if Castiel had once considered running that hope was now dashed.  
"Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go...Joshua chapter one verse nine"

/Come out here, father/. 

Castiel's eyes flash open, staring at the door in front of him, the only thing keeping him safe from the other man...there was no lock..all the stranger had to do was tear open the door and he would have him.  
Maybe, if Castiel was compliant he could gain enough time to think of a way out...or maybe his death would come more swiftly.  
It was the last thing he wanted to do, but he stands...rises to his feet on weak knees before he hesitantly pushes open the door to finally see his assailant.  
The man was beautiful, looking more like a model than a murderer, then again Castiel had always heard that it was the most normal seeming people that were the most psychotic...perhaps his good looks made it that much easier to catch his victims. Cas sets his eyes squarely on the other, his best attempt at bravery. "What do you want with me?"

 

The demons plump lips quirk, forming a malicious smirk as he listens to the priests pitiful prayers, on the other side of the door. Did he really think God was listening? That his God gave a damn whether he lives or dies tonight?  
Dean's gaze drops to the knife in his hands as he carelessly fiddles with the blade. He shakes his head, listening to the prayers; knowing they weren't going to do him any good. The tip of the blade pierces his finger – he doesn't even flinch. Pain and empathy were something he rarely ever experienced since his possession.  
His emerald hues flicker up to the confessional, watching the priest finally open the door. A child-like, lopsided smile appears on Dean's face as the other man steps out of the booth. He knew what the priest looked like, after all, he did just spend two hours listening to Castiel's sermon while he waited for the church to empty. But up close... fuck. He wanted to rip the priests black clothes right off his body. Though, that would ruin the fun.

Dean steps forward, closing the distance between them, “Hmmm... what do I want with you...” He hums softly in thought, repeating the priests question. The demons eyes hungrily scan over his body. “That's a good question, father.” After a long moment of blatantly checking out the priest, Dean's gaze lifts, making eye contact.  
“We're going to pray together,” he responds giddily, looping an arm around the back of Castiel's neck like they were the best of friends. “I did plan on cutting you up a little bit, but with a face like that... nah. It'd only be a waste.”  
Dean forcibly leads the other towards the alter, and places the blade back inside his jacket. “But if you try anything... I'll kill you, and trust me, that's something I don't really want to do. Yet, anyways.” He walks down the aisle between the pews, and walks up the steps towards the alter.  
“Pray,” Dean whispers to Castiel, gaze lustful as his eyes wander the mans side  
profile. “Pray for forgiveness, because tonight... tonight we're going to do a whole lot of sinning,” his voice is venomous against the shell of the priests ear. He devilishly chuckles, and shoves him forward.


	2. Chapter 2

The man steps forward, close enough that the priest could see the bright green of his eyes, could smell that faint whiff of whiskey on his tongue. Castiel doesn't move, hands stiff at his sides as he watches the stranger, watches the way his eyes traveled down...even though he was fully clothed, Castiel had never felt so naked. The silence hung in the air, thick with tension before the other finally speaks, but it's not the answer that Castiel was expecting.His eyebrows furrow, confusion clear in his expression. He couldn't imagine that this man would want to actually pray, it was just a game...though Castiel couldn't begin to imagine where the fun was in making him pray, he couldn't begin to imagine what was going on in the other's head.  
Castiel opens his mouth to speak, but he doesn't want to question and end up dead for it, so the words go lost in his throat as the man is grabbing him, making him walk down the aisle past the pews where less than an hour ago people sat to listen to his sermon- that seemed like days ago now.  
Castiel shivers, a tremor down his spine at the hot whisper in his ear.  
The man thought he was attractive? He made that pretty obvious. Maybe there was a way for Castiel to twist that, use it to his advantage. 

He stumbles forward upon the shove, gazing up at the depiction of Christ on the cross that hung above him.  
If ever there was a time he needed a miracle it would be now.Slowly the priest drops to his knees on the altar, glancing back warily at the man behind him...afraid to have his back to him, but more afraid to not do what he said.  
Castiel wasn't about to push his luck. Not now. 

The priest links his fingers together, palms pressed, bowing his head into his hands as he begins to pray, voice thick with his attempt to not let the words break."Our father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name.." he begins, pauses, resists the urge not to look back, the next part comes out fast the familiar words quick on his tongue."-thy kingdom come, thy will be done. On Earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our trespasss, as we forgive those who trespass against us.Lead us...not into.." he stops, gives in and let's his eyes open, let's himself look towards the man again.. "-temptation...but..deliver..us...from... /evil/" he swallows, shifts his eyes away,,the prayer is at an end and he's afraid of what comes when it's over "-for thine is the kingdom, the power and the glory forever... Amen."

The demon leisurely makes his way over to the pulpit, and leans against it's wooden frame. His lecherous gaze never leaving sight of the priest – not once. Not only was Castiel immensely attractive to Dean, but the demon found this whole situation far too amusing to distract himself with anything else. .  
When the dark-haired man glanced back at him, the demons sneer grew dangerously wider. As the priest knelt down before the alter, to pray to his God, Dean took the opportunity to shamelessly inspect Castiel's backside. Sinful thoughts and images began to slowly overflow his corrupted mind, and he rolled his bottom lip between his teeth. He rubbed his palm against his crotch, a small gasp emitted passed Dean's lips.  
The priests prayers didn't – not once – effect the demon. It surprised him sometimes, that he could go unaffected by someone's prayers, and even crosses. Holy water on the other-hand, was something he had yet to experience. And he didn't want to.  
As soon as the priest finishes his prayer, the demon departs from the pulpit and makes his way over to the priest. 

“Good boy,” he teases. Dean rests a hand on top of the other males head, and pets his hair as if he were an obedient canine.  
Castiel manages to not flinch from the other's touch, even though all of his instincts are to push the touch away, he restrains.

The demon crouches down next to the priest, knees grinding softly in the process.

The Lord's Prayer was supposed to be something of comfort, all of his praying was supposed to make him feel better, safer..but this man made them a game, they did nothing to help the pounding in Castiel's chest. And they would do nothing to stop tonight's events..it was hard to say God's will be done in moments like this. The priest lowers his hands dropping them to his lap, fingers curled into fists.

 

“Now that you've finished your little prayer. I feel like we should get to know more about one another. Don't you agree, father?” He raises a suggestive eyebrow at the priest. Clearly, Dean was just screwing with him now, but it's not like he was really giving him much of a choice. “I haven't introduced myself to you, now have I? He asks, amusement laced in his tone.  
“My names Dean. Dean Winchester. And your names, Castiel. Am I correct?”  
The demons gaze drops to the white collar around the priests neck, and he removes the white stripe with a simple tug. “Honestly, 'father' has grown on me. So, I hope you don't mind me referring to you as such for the rest of the evening.”

 

Castiel keeps his gaze down, part afraid to look at the man, part trying to play this part of obedience-he hated it, but this was about survival.  
He had always been under the idea that you had a better chance of getting out of an assault alive if you never saw the face of your assailant, but this man had done nothing to try to hide his face...and now the priest even knew his name. Obviously this Dean wasn't planning on Castiel being /able/ to pass along any of the information to anyone.  
Castiel glances up at the sound of his own name...face pale and eyes wide.  
How long had Dean been planning this? Had he been watching Castiel? Sitting right there in the pews with all his sick ideas forming while Castiel was none the wiser.  
The man tugs off his collar, ironic considering the white was meant to be a symbol of purity and fear begins spinning to anger. How /dare/ this man come into his church, his sacred place, how dare he mock him and ridicule him. Castiel had never been good at controlling his temper or his tongue. "Would it matter if I did?" He spits out, eyes blue fire as he glares at the other man. Pushing his luck, maybe,but Castiel couldn't help it, and with eyes flashing to the other man's hands he noticed that the knife had been stashed away...maybe if he acted fast enough, he could still make a run for it.

Castiel was giving the demon exactly what he wanted, and it made him giddy. Dean had expected the priest to be an obedient little participant, but rebellion flared in those blue hues – that's what he wanted to see! Well, that, or tears streaming down his face as his faith and hope is slowly torn from him. Either way satisfied the demon really. He enjoyed the fact that he could get underneath the priests skin, it made the circumstances all the more entertaining.

“Well yes, I do think it matters, father.” He replies, tone rather snide as he speaks. “After all, I've got nothing to hide. You know what I'm capable of, and now, you know who I am.” Dean purposely begins fiddling with the blade, noticing the priests eyes making contact with the silver blade. “Beautiful, isn't it?” He raises the blade to show it off, flipping it to either side, exposing the engravings. “Unfortunately, the original owner is no longer with us.” The demons hums his last sentencebefore deciding to switch the subject.  
“Tell me, are you a virgin? Or did you fuck someone before becoming a priest?” Morals were something Dean no longer considered, why bother? It felt good to be able to say and do anything he wanted, without feeling guilt. Nobody could stop him.  
His fingertips trail over Castiel's jawline, stubble prickling the sensitive skin there. Keeping his hands off the priest seemed to be impossible. Castiel was just so handsome. Fuck, he really lucked out with this one. Dean's hand gingerly combs through his dark hair, and he genuinely smiles at the softness between his fingers. “You're so beautiful,” he hums, and pulls his hand away after a lingering moment.

Blue hues follow the sheen of the blade, as if keeping his eyes on the object could keep him from being hurt by it, could keep Dean from using it-when in fact he was pretty certain the only thing /stopping/ Dean from using the knife was the sick pleasure he got from toying with the priest.  
He doesn't answer the other's question about his virginity or lack thereof, just clenches his jaw and looks down, ignoring the heat in his cheeks.  
Which would Dean want him to be? A virgin who he could defile? Or a man with experience? Would it be better to lie or be truthful?  
He jumps this time when Dean touches him again, calloused fingers brushing across his face, moving to brush through the mess of the priest's dark hair.  
Castiel looks up, stares despite himself at Dean in their close proximity to each other, in particular at the smile that comes across his face- a look that wasn't mean nor mocking but...almost serene, happy, and his touch is too gentle, too soft...like the caress of a lover. Castiel couldn't help but to wonder if all of Dean's victims had been treated in such a manner- it was a far cry off from the tortures he had described- maybe those people had made a mistake somewhere that led to their demise...maybe it was just a matter of time until Dean flipped, taking to carving into Castiel's skin rather than running his fingers through his hair and giving compliments. The suspense, the wait and worry was maddening, and he doesn't think through before the question is out of his mouth, "What're you going to do?"

 

Dean's emerald hues gleamed with pure desire and longing as he ogled at the priest. Such... innocence and virtue, right in the palms of his tainted hands. Part of him wanted to take his time with Castiel, but there was also the urge to tear the mans clothes off, and just have his way with him.  
He didn't necessarily need Castiel to confess, out loud, whether he was intact or not because the demon already knew the answer. But what was the fun in that?  
Dean's smile fades to the priests question. “You didn't answer my question, father,” he tsks softly, using his tongue and the roof of his mouth. His head tilts to the side in the slightest manner. He thought that he was being generous, considering he hadn't killed him upon first sight, and yet, the priest couldn't have the decency to answer a simple question?  
“I only have so much patience...” there was a distinct growl in his tone of voice as he spoke. “Answer my question, and maybe I'll have an answer for yours. I'll see if your answer satisfies me.”  
Without a morsel of hesitation, the demon moves his hand to Castiel's thigh and grips the flesh there gently. His gaze shifts from the priests blue orbs to his thigh. “So firm,” he chuckles to himself, and runs his hand down and over the mans thigh. Shamelessly his hand slowly slides towards his inner thigh, and he grins.

 

Castiel could probably count on one hand his experiences with anything remotely close with sex. Even in his youth he had always done his best to follow the rules, do what he was told. He attended a very strict Catholic school where he managed to sneak in one kiss to a girl named April under the bleachers during gym...he went to confession about it after.  
When he was first considering joining the livelihood of the cloth, Castiel left...abandoned his reservations and went out.  
He drank and danced in a dimly lit night club, and when a man came to him Castiel let him steal a kiss. In the end his fear of what could happen if he continued overcame any desire to do anything further with the man and Castiel had left with nothing more than the taste of liquor on his tongue and guilty thoughts in his mind.  
It had always been taught that sexual intercourse was an action for reproduction, and nothing else, so it should be saved for marriage.  
Castiel married the church instead. He was not without his thoughts, his urges but he was...untouched by another's hand.  
Dean wanted an answer that would satisfy him...Castiel supposed that the truth would do so. On the other hand, if he lied, told Dean he had had sex before maybe he wouldn't want him? Or he would just kill him.  
Either way, it was obvious he wasn't going to take silence as an answer.  
"I..um.." Castiel shivers, eyes flickering down when he feels a hand on his leg, sliding across his thigh. His mouth is cotton and he's forgotten how to move but wills himself to finish his sentence, even though his words come out as practically a whisper. "No...I've never...had occasion."

 

Dean is practically clinging to the priest at this point as he tenaciously awaits for a response. Even though he already had a pretty good idea of the amount of intimate experience Castiel has had. Guessing by his hesitant body-language, the demon presumes that his experience was little to none. Not that Dean was complaining. It made the priest all the more intriguing, and as long as Dean got what he wanted from the devout man, he wouldn't inflict too much pain upon him. Hell, he might even enjoy it. The demons brought sides out of people that they didn't even know about. Dean never use to imagine torturing or murdering folk before the demon, and now look at him. Dean Winchester was currently top most wanted.  
“Never had occasion, huh?” He mumbles, too distracted to bother looking up at the priest as Dean smooths his hand over his thigh before caressing it gently. “Tonight's your lucky night, father. Tonight we're going to pop that cherry of yours,” slyly the demon gazed up Castiel from his pervious doings.  
The demon presses his lips together and begins humming a faint melody. Hey, Jude by The Beatles. Dean couldn't remember where he heard the song from, but he could easily sing each and every lyric of that song by the top of his head. Whilst he hums the smoothly tune, his hand slowly trails further up Castiel's thigh. “Don't worry, I'll take good care of you.” Dean croons the promise, setting his knife down on the floor furthest from Castiel.  
“M'gonna make you feel good.” His palm halts once it's pressed down against the priests covered crotch, and he slowly massages the soft bulge underneath. “Have you ever touched yourself?” Dean purrs against Castiel's ear as his other hand slides to the back of his neck.  


 

Under any other circumstance this might have been a romantic situation. Dean's melody was a deep resonance, his touches gentle, words soft and sweet. Castiel desperately wanted it to be true, wanted to believe that this was something different, that Dean hadn't done all those horrible things...that they were different people. Maybe it would make it all easier to handle.  
Castiel's eyes fall to the knife...too far away for him to reach, and Dean was obviously stronger than him...he couldn't run, couldn't fight...was it not easier...safer to just do what he was told?  
Castiel sucks in a breath as Dean's hand moves to his crotch, pressing and rubbing into his member.  
The priest closes his eyes, squeezing tight, holding his breath. Castiel knew better than to not answer Dean's questions now, the other man had already mentioned his lack of patience and Castiel didn't want to test it, so he responds...the truth yet again"..Y-yes.." he murmurs, and he feels shamed from the fact-he couldn't help it with his upbringing but it felt ridiculous considering who he was talking to. “Kiss me.” Dean says, it wasn't a request. Castiel let's out his breath, a shudder as his eyes open to look at the other again, blue hues wide. Taking whatever Dean wanted to do with him was one thing, he could sit still and accept his fate( something that was certainly better than dying)...but participating?  
It seemed to make it something different.  
He hesitates, but Dean's words were a command and he didn't want to know what the punishment was for disobeying, so he pushes forward, allowing his lips to press against the other's pair.

 

Dean smirks devilishly, watching the priest lean in to kiss him; showing zero resistance by obeying the order that had him kissing Castiel like he were his high-school sweetheart, gingerly brushing his full lips against his, tasting him. Then, after several long moments he deepens the kiss and escalates it into something far more along the lines of lust. The hand at the back of Castiel's neck steadily slides further upwards until Dean's fingers weave through the short, dark strands there. He gives a merciful tug.  
Castiel was surprised yet again, by the gentle nature in which Dean handled him, his lips were soft and slow and it almost made it worse. It soon changes, into something more expected, something that could only be described as desire. Castiel had frozen for a moment, stoic as the other man kissed him. But, he thought, maybe if he could please Dean, he would make it out alive, so he kisses him back, lips unsure with inexperience.

A soft groan spills from his lips and he immediately clenches his jaw to hide the involuntary sound.  
He could feel himself growing hard under Dean's hand, but he couldn't help it, his body reacting naturally to the friction. 

“Have to admit...” Dean gasps softly as he regretfully pulls away from the kiss, “it's been awhile since the last time I've tasted someone as sweet as you...” it was true. The last time Dean actually kissed someone was nearly over a year ago. Sure, he's fucked around, but took the time to kiss the other person? Nope. The demon swallows dryly, looking up at Castiel with lust-blown pupils.  
“The last person I kissed was someone I killed y'know,” he pauses, a sickening grin quirking on his lips. “But don't worry, father. I haven't decided on what I'm going to do with you afterwards.”

"Wh-why did you do that? Kill the last person you kissed?" The thought made his heart beat all the faster, Dean looked so proud that he had committed the act, but Dean hadn't decided what he was going to do with him yet?  
If Castiel could learn what made the other kill before perhaps he could avoid the same fate. He was running on thoughts of survival. 

The demon took immense pleasure in the fact that the priest was giving into the inclination. His own erection was beginning to ache as it presses against the crotch of his jeans. Castiel's innocent moans were pure music to Dean's ear, and even as he attempted to silence himself, Dean knew he couldn't keep quiet forever.  
He contemplates the priests question, on why he killed the last person he kissed. Dean stares blankly down at the priest before answering. “Because, why not?” He responds, his answer short and smooth. Honestly, Dean didn't really have a reason; if he had the urge to kill someone, he'd just do it.  
Sympathy and empathy were something Dean hasn't been capable of feeling for a very, /very/ long time. The demon didn't allow him to feel such emotions. Dean didn't even think he could express emotions anymore, no matter how much he tried. Possibly, he could act out the emotions he once felt, but couldn't actually /feel/ them.

Dean leans down, having enough of the conversation and nips at the front of Castiel's throat, catching the flesh between his teeth. Most people would normally suck a hickey into ones neck, but Dean... he preferred something a little rougher. Whilst he occupied himself with marking the priest throat, nimble fingers began to unzip Castiel's slacks; gaining access to his cock.  
Wait – suddenly he has an idea, and pulls his hand away from Castiel's opened slacks.  
“I want you to do something for me, father.. I want you to touch yourself for me. Show me what you do when you're in your bed late at night. Show me what you do when you think about think about that girl who attends your sermons with her skirt hiked up too short that.... /just/ barely covers her ass, or that boy who purposely wears his pants too tight to show off how big his cock is.”

 

The priest gasps out, as Dean bites at his neck, marking him for anyone to see- well if he lived past today-; he clenches his jaw again cursing himself..he hated the sounds, hated that they came from him..he shouldn't get any kind of pleasure from this. He didn't want it to feel good and yet a small part of him would have to admit that it did  
Dean's hand felt good rubbing against his cock, the teeth on his neck and Dean's erotic whispers in his ear..despite all of his fears a pleasure was still there. 

Castiel had masturbated for the first time when he was fourteeen, drawn by curiosity for what it would feel like. He confessed to his priest, who claimed it as sin and made Castiel recite five Hail Mary's. He always tried to resist the temptation but...even priests were human.  
To touch himself here, however, in front of someone...on the /altar/ of all places..there weren't enough Hail Marys to make up for that.  
Tears push at his eyes, makes blue glossy. He had been able to hold back his emotions before, grinding his teeth and keeping silent, but he felt so weak, so used, so inadequate to do anything to save himself.  
"You,.you could have anyone, anyone you wanted. Someone..someone who knows what they're doing. I won't be any good. You don't want me." It was a weak attempt, and he already knew it wouldn't do any good but something in him wanted him to put up a fight-much as he knew what a bad idea that was.

The demon notices the priests glossy blue orbs, and a indistinct, tainted smile forms on his lips. However, it fades soon to something more forlorn, something to comfort Castiel. “Shh... don't cry, father,” he practically croons, “we haven't even gotten started yet.” Dean wipes away the priests tears, using the pad of his thumb. Seeing those tears stain the others cheeks made his stomach feel all buoyant inside.

The next thing that leaves the priests lips, surprises Dean. “You'd rather someone else receive this treatment? You'd rather someone else take your place? Oh... father,” he shakes his head, acting like he were disappointed in hearing those words coming from a /priest/. “That's not very righteous,” he tsks, “I thought priests would voluntarily risk their own lives for the sake of others.”  
Pulling himself from the priest, Dean picks the knife up from the floor and stands. His eyes drawn to the blade in his hands before he even bothers gazing back down at Castiel. “I'm not going to repeat myself again, Castiel,” he says firmly, “-pull out your cock, or I'm gonna start slicing.” The demon knew how difficult this was for someone of the church... he just didn't care.

 

Cas stares, mouth agape, Dean's words stuck and caused a whole new wave of guilt to pass over him. No, no he didn't want someone else to take his place, it wasn't so much as that as just trying to get away himself. But the implication was there...and Dean had a point, if Castiel wasn't here in this situation then someone else would be. "No..no I wouldn't rather.." his words trail off as the knife is back in Dean's hand.  
It seemed like the time for sweet pretenses was over and Castiel couldn't help but to curse himself for speaking up. Right now he would rather have Dean wiping away at his tears-even if the sweetness was some kind of mockery it was better than threats.

The priest swallows hard, eyes flickering from the blade back to Dean's face...he believed him, he believed everything that Dean had said-and there was no doubt in his mind that Dean could and would use that knife if he wanted to.

It was obvious that the other man had no qualms about his wrong doings, murder for revenge had turned to murder just because. Everything Dean did, it seemed, was just trying to find some kind of fun.  
His own name on Dean's lips makes him shiver, he didn't think he would ever prefer the other man calling him father. 

Castiel was still on his knees, were he had knelt to pray, his legs growing weary of the position but he didn't dare move them; instead he obeys, slowly reaching his hand down into his slacks, easy with them already being undone. He looks down, curling his shoulders inwards trying to hide into himself, hide his nakedness as he pulls his cock from the restraint of his pants. One hand lays flat on the ground, supporting himself as the other hesitantly grips his length. Another tear makes way down his cheek and a part of him wants to sob, but he refuses to give Dean that satisfaction. Staying hunched over, he begins to move his hand, slowly up and down his cock.

 

A shit eating grin makes it's way across the demons smug face as he watches the priest do as he's told. He could /only imagine/ the humiliation, and the shame Castiel must be feeling right now.  
Dean's gaze studies the priests body-language, observing the way he hunches over before touching himself. Shame written all over the mans face – the demon took gratification in that, knowing he was the cause of that embarrassment. Pride in causing another ones pain was probably the only emotion Dean truly felt; maybe that's why he got off on it the most.  
“You're acting like your naked,” he blurts as his eyes hungrily look over Castiel, “I haven't even gotten to taking your clothes off yet.” Dean begins to shed his jacket off his shoulders, “-would it make you feel better if I stripped down first? Hmm? Make things less awkward for you?” He raises a brow and removes his jacket, purposely tossing it so it lands on the priests pulpit.  
Next he strips his shirt off, revealing his upper body to Castiel. “Maybe you seeing a little skin will help out with the boner,” Dean teases, in a mocking manner.  
Knife, still in his hand, Dean begins fiddling with the knife again as he watches the priest slowly jerk his cock. “Maybe a blowjob will help? After all, there's nobody here but you...” he takes a step forward, “-and me.” Dean moans, groping his crotch through the rough fabric whilst watching Castiel stoke his own cock.  
“It can be our little secret.”

Castiel had, truthfully, experienced plenty of thoughts about other men...had let his eyes linger too long on a toned figure at the beach, and of course there was that one kiss years ago. Hesitantly Castiel lifts his eyes to the other man, to see his reaction..to see what he was doing.  
Dean was obviously attractive, his body fit, arms toned with muscles, his skin was lightly tanned and his eyes were an almost unnatural shade of green and Castiel hated himself all the more for thinking of it. All of Dean's words and mannerisms were mocking, joyful would be the word Castiel used to describe it; he got off on this, he had even admitted to that fact earlier, when Dean was but another lost soul searching for guidance. How wrong the priest had been about that. 

Dean moans and Castiel's eyes fall to his crotch as the man rubs his hand over it.  
He was right in a mix of terrified and /pissed/ he wanted to both cry and scream, he wanted to both run and fight, he wanted to both obey and rebel.. he was just smart enough, or scared enough to choose the obedient route, well mostly. The knife that Dean played with, like it was actually a toy, made him remember why. 

A blowjob. Castiel was a virgin but he wasn't stupid, he knew what a blowjob /was/, on paper at least, but did Dean mean for him to give or receive the action? The priest couldn't decide which would be the lesser of two evils.  
Castiel laughs, a forced and angry sound "You keep asking questions, as if I have a choice.." he drops his gaze..there he goes again, speaking up..hadn't he learned no good came out of that? "I just mean.." he tries to fix his mistake, he wants to stay on Dean's good side. "You should do whatever you want to me.." He speaks, and the words are thick from his lips, he looks up gazes at Dean under his lashes.

 

Dean's cock was aching at this point. Bulge pressing up against his jeans, tenting the fabric there. His cock hard, ever since he had stepped foot inside the church and laid eyes on the attractive, young priest. Sitting in the pews, watching Castiel give his sermon; preaching, was what felt like an endless torture. But, those two hours were worth it because now, Dean had the priest precisely how he wanted him. Alone and vulnerable. It was just a matter of time before Dean gave into his lust driven appetite.  
And when castiel speaks up for himself again, and begins displaying a little backbone – it only arouses the demon more. Sure, Dean enjoyed being a sarcastic asshole when it came to mocking or torturing his victims, but fuck, did it ever turn him on when his victims put up an aggressive facade. He attentively listens to the priest as he speaks his part, which aroused, yet equally pissed the demon off.  
“You're right,” he agrees, pursing his lips with a nod. “Maybe I should be more straightforward with you.” Dean slowly begins unbuckling his belt, then pulls the leather strap free from the loops of his jeans.  
“No more screwing around,” he promises, and gazes thoughtfully down at the leather strap in his hand. Seemed like a waste to just throw aside...  
“We're going to play a little game, father,” he smirks, and crouches down. “Here's how the game is going to go. I'm going to tug. /Hard/. But, if you're good, I'll give you a reward.” While Dean is explaining the instructions to the 'game', he wraps the belt around Castiel's neck and shoves the end of the strap through the metal loop; functioning as a leash. “You understand?” He asks, rising to his feet.

 

Castiel never wished he could read thoughts so much as right now. He assumed that obedience was what Dean wanted from him, but how was he to know the thoughts racing around Dean's mind? How was he to know the best way to survive?

He stayed still in his position, his hands holding over his manhood, covering himself. He flinches, when Dean pulls his belt free almost expecting to be hit with it, lashed like a misbehaving child.  
Castiel was no stranger to punishment, as a child a whipping with a belt was commonplace in his home, and the nuns at his school would often crack a ruler over his knuckles if he was caught in some wrong doing. That never came with as much shame as this though.  
Dean wraps the leather around his neck, and instantly the image of being strangled with it comes to mind and twists Castiel's stomach...if Dean decided to kill him, it would be too easy to just tighten the belt more and more until Castiel breath was gone. 

"Yes..s-" he croaks, remembering to answer Dean's question, the automatic need to say the word 'sir' getting caught in his throat.  
He was raised with Yes sir and Yes mam as the proper way to answer to authority, it had become a habit, hopefully Dean didn't notice because something told Castiel that he might get too much of a kick out of that.

Honestly, the thought of strangling the priest to death with the leather belt had never even crossed the demons mind. He was far too mesmerized by the pornographic sight before him: Castiel on his knees with his cock out, a leash snugly wrapped around his throat. What made it even better was that his hand was holding the end of that leash. Perhaps if he were to give it a yank, it would choke Castiel for maybe a minute or two.

Besides, Dean could think of more /creative/ methods to end Castiel's life, other than with a pathetic leather strap. Come to think of it, he was considering more along the lines of torturing the priest, rather then taking his life. Why end his life, if he had the upper-hand? He wanted to break the priest – corrupt him... Not give him a mercy killing.  
Dean /wanted/ Castiel to live with the weight of this guilt on his shoulders. He wanted to watch Castiel go on, and preach his sermons, so afterwards he could break him all over again.  
“What was that?” He raises a brow, noticing the priest cut himself off before finishing what he was going to say. “Yes.... /s-/?” Dean presses his index finger against Castiel's bottom lip, pushing it downwards to reveal his bottom set of teeth. And he smiles. “My cocks gonna be the first, and the last cock to spread these lips.” Dean takes pride in that fact, and he chuckles darkly. He then slips off his boots, then undoes the crotch of his jeans with his knife-occupied hand, the other securely holding the priests leash. His jeans drop to his ankles. “Help me out won't you,” Dean hints to his boxer briefs, “pull down my briefs, and suck my cock. Remember. No biting.”

 

Castiel fidgets, gaze going downwards, "Sir.." he murmurs, completing his unfinished sentence despite the heat in his face-he didn't think it was possible to feel more embarrassed but he was proven wrong yet again.  
Dean's finger on his lip brings Castiel's eyes back upwards and he shivers at the man's words, the underlying threat behind them. As far as he knew, however, Dean was still undecided as to what he would do with Castiel after he had his fill of the priest tonight.

The priest had absolutely no idea what he was doing, but the knife in Dean's hand and the leather pressing against his skin was enough of a reminder that arguing was not an option, Dean said if he was good that he would get a reward...Castiel could put together himself what that mean if he was bad. So, grabbing at the fabric of the man's briefs in his hand he pulls down, releasing Dean's cock. He couldn't help but to stare, he had never seen another man's cock in person...he had seen a few pictures, a magazine he had somehow gotten a hold of when he was sixteen, and he had seen his own of course but it was different actually seeing one up close and...really..personal.  
Castiel could see that Dean was already hard, his cock jutted out straight in front of him...his treatments of the priest earlier had been enjoyable to him, obviously.  
Castiel swallows, glancing up at Dean for just a moment before returning his attention to his cock,  
Dean didn't like to repeat himself, Castiel remembers, so he reaches out, his hand hesitantly grasping the base of the cock before leaning in, mouth closing around the tip of the erection. He closes his eyes, squeezing them tight breath escaping heavy through his nose. He tries not to think, not to think about the feel of the other man in his mouth, tries not to think about how hard his heart beat in his chest, tries not to think of what would happen later...he had to do what he needed to do /now/.  
He moves, attempts to take more of Dean's cock into his mouth but ends up gagging on the length so he moves to pull back, teeth scraping against the skin.

 

The demon is silent, observant of the priest as he obeys the orders that had been given to him. Obviously, he didn't expect Castiel to know what to do right off the bat; what virgin would? Especially a man who had pledged himself to God, promised himself to the church. A man who would take no wife (or husband), preform no lustful desire, and father no children. Dean took pride in being Castiel's first, butterflies fluttered in his stomach at the knowledge of this. 

Damn, it's been a really long time since anythings made him this excited. Killing, and torture used to give Dean this sensation, however, the feeling faded after he lost count of his victims. But this... this was fun. Corrupting a priest interested the demon far more than a nun; women never excited him, not like men. He'd only humiliate women, mostly prostitutes, then kill them afterwards. Mutilate them, decapitate them, and leave their body parts scattered around the cities in the end. With men however, he had his way with them, whichever way he desired before murdering them. Topping was never as fun as bottoming for Dean. He liked the control, the power, but he far more enjoyed a thick cock inside him.  
He moans softly when Castiel's mouth closes around the tip of his cock, doing his best not to thrust forward. Dean wanted him to experience it for himself before he started being rough. His bottom lip rolls between his teeth, watching the priest attempting to take more of his length into his mouth before choking. What else did he expect? The first time Dean sucked cock was in his senior year of high school. John despised him after finding out about his sons boyfriend at the time, but since then? Dean has long lost his gag-reflex.  
“Don't worry, you'll get it next time,” he teases, and grips the hair at the back of Castiel's head. Dean's thumb holds the knifes handle against his palm, his fingers grip the hair, and he tugs on the leash.  
“Open up. I'm not going to baby you the whole way through his process. Just take as much as you can and bob your head. Stroke the rest with your hand.” He buckles his hips forward once Castiel's stops gagging, pressing the head of his cock against his lips. “Open,” he growls lowly.

 

Castiel whimpers, a small sound, with the belt around his neck tightening just so as Dean tugs on the other end...Dean's fingers are in his hair and cock rubbing on his lips...he was at the other man's mercy and command.  
He would like to say that the tears that begin to drop down his cheeks was connected to his gagging but he can't entirely say that that is the only reason, and best as he tries to hold them back it's not of any use.  
He doesn't make a move to wipe them away, Dean would see them anyway.  
The tears just make him angry, he hated that he was so weak as to cry; perhaps a better priest would have fought better than he, maybe a better priest would have chosen death over performing these actions....would have refused and taken the knife- maybe Dean had even killed a few priests already, or other people in the church who refused to do his bidding.

He was supposed to be welcoming of death, but, as Castiel saw it, the craziest thing a man could do...was let himself die... he had read a quote like that in Don Quixote..and the idea had always stuck with him, it was one of the reasons, he guessed, he had such a hard time being completely devout in all he was meant to do, and /now/ it was why he was stuck in this situation. He refused to just die.  
He opens his mouth, taking the hardness of Dean's member into his mouth once more, swallowing past any sobs that threatened to make sound as he tries to follow the other's directions, moving his head back and forth as he keeps his lips around the cock, his hand takes the base, stroking what he couldn't take into his mouth-he manages to get about halfway down Dean's length before he moves back to the tip and then again, back and forth.

 

Dean was a little surprised by the amount of patience he's sustained for the priest so far. Now normally if a victim, or... anyone in general for that matter, gave him such a difficult time, he would've slit their throats and been done with them already. Perhaps it was his attraction for the priest that stopped him. The demons dealt with attractive victims before, but he couldn't find the heart to waste this one. There was just something about Castiel... he just couldn't place his finger on it.

A child-like grin spreads on Dean's face when he watches the man below him follow the instructions that he'd given him. His hold on him however, doesn't let up; the hand in Castiel's hair tightens and his grip on the belt-like-leash is firm. He then notices the tears trickling down the priest face, and instead of feeling pity... he feels achievement.  
“I have to say the sight of you— your mouth wrapped around my cock with tears running down your face is a pretty picture,” he hums, and tilts his head to the side. Dean moans once Castiel's head begins bobbing on his cock, earning a small gasp from the demon as he begins softly thrusting into his mouth.  
“K-keep going,” he shudders, and combs his fingers through the other males dark hair before gripping it again. “F-uck.” Dean could put on a good show, but once the wet, velvety mouths of his victims are taking his length... he gives into the pleasure. He tugs on the leash, encouraging Castiel to keep going. Soft moans erupt from the demons throats and he leans his head back.

 

Castiel had never been a particularly vengeful person, short tempered at times, but never vengeful. But right about now, watching Dean get so much joy out of what he was doing to the priest, all he wanted to do was to hurt Dean, he wanted to bite down hard on his dick, just as he was told not to do, he wanted payback.  
He wouldn't do it, though, not to the degree of biting his cock at least...that would certainly warrant a slash to the throat.

Castiel opens his eyes, glancing up towards the other ; it was the first time that he hadn't seen the other man completely in control..he stuttered, shuddered, and the priest had a sudden sense of curiosity...for what this might feel like. Based on Dean's sounds and his his head thrown back in ecstasy it seemed like it was quite good.  
Should Castiel feel accomplished that he was able to make Dean feel this way?  
He knew he really shouldn't but Dean's pleasure, he thought, was key in his survival, Dean moaning was another minute that Castiel was alive. 

Castiel continues, a soft muffled groan released from the fingers tugging at his hair. He goes farther, taking more of Dean's length into his mouth as he gets more accustomed to the feeling, he gags again, but not as much and he doesn't pull away, just continues...and maybe if he can do a good enough job Dean will finish and then...well maybe if he did a /really/ good job Dean would even let him go. His hand moves down, caressing against the other's balls...exploring what he might be able to do...what would get a reaction out of Dean.

It never did take much for Dean to get lost in the pleasure that he'd receive from his victims. Whether that be from torturing them, or fucking them. Truthfully, either way got him off. Though, he had more control while slicing into their vulnerable flesh and torturing them, then he did when receiving sexual pleasure from them. His submissive nature begins presenting itself, passed the dominant facade he portrays so well.  
The demon moans louder once he feels the warmth and wetness of Castiel's mouth slide further down his length. Honestly, he hadn't expected the priest to be so bold yet— not that Dean was complaining. He rolls his head to the side, resting on his shoulder as he watches Castiel's mouth devour his cock. His orgasm beginning to build in the pit of his stomach. Dean ignores the priests gags, too lost in the feeling to focus on anything else, and for once at a loss of words. He couldn't bother himself in mocking Castiel at the moment; it's been weeks since he's last felt the wet, velvet of someone's mouth.

“Ah– fuck...” he flinches at the contact to his balls, sensitive to the touch. Part of the demon hated the feeling of vulnerability, but it felt so good at the same time. Dean catches the whimper in the back of his throats, refusing to let the priest hear such a frail noise. “Faster.” The demand doesn't quite sound as threatening as it had before; barely even sounding like a command and more of a plea. Dean's hips buckle forward and he gasps, “-feels so good, father...”

Pleasure was always something that was seen as a sin, it was that way in most things in Castiel's life. Physical pleasure of course but there were other things- you were not to be too proud of yourself or it would be pride, don't enjoy food too much or you could turn to gluttony, don't even look at someone too long or you might be lustful. Castiel's whole life had been trying to hold himself back, had been trying to do what was right..yet he always had a feeling that he was missing out on something, that everyone else out there in the world got to /live/ while he was too busy being too good. Seeing the look on Dean's face in that moment, he thought of that again, of all the times in his life that he felt he was missing out on something. 

Castiel swallows around Dean's cock, an attempt to not drool with the excess saliva in is mouth as he tries to rid his thoughts and just continue with his actions-

How long could one last with a blowjob? Castiel certainly didn't know but he didn't want to stop without some kind of sign or permission so he stays obedient once again, bobbing his head faster, the hand on Dean's balls rubs then one step further to gently squeeze against them-things he had discovered felt good while masturbating so perhaps Dean would be pleased with it as well.

The muscles in Dean's thighs tremble from not only the feeling of Castiel's hot mouth around his shaft, but from his nearing orgasm. The priests mouth just felt /too/ good, too sinful to belong on such a holy man, and what made the experience even better was the fact that Castiel was a natural. Dean's dealt with virgins before, but none were as exceptional. His lips press together to form a thin line, suppressing the moans from pushing passed them. However, that doesn't stop the muffled noises.  
He didn't know how much longer he'd be capable of letting up, Castiel was far better at this than Dean would have ever imagined. “You sure you haven't done this before?” He chuckles breathlessly to his own question, knowing the priest couldn't answer him with his mouth full of cock. After a long moment, Dean decides that Castiel's could take a bit more, so, he pushes his head forward, not caring whether the priest chokes or not.  
He thrusts his hips forward, “Now, relax your jaw or this is gonna hurt a hell of a lot more.” The demon jerks the leash forward and holds it as he fucks himself down Castiel's throat. He catches a glimpse of the priests hand covering his own cock instead of stroking it. “Now did I tell you to stop touching yourself?” He reminds him, “-how do you expect to get your reward with a soft cock, huh?”

 

Castiel was always quick to catch on to actions, perhaps it was partly due to his obedience to listen, to follow rules and instructions-even if he had thoughts to do otherwise. Obviously, based on Dean's reactions and words, this was no different matter. The priest was surprised, though, he didn't expect that he was doing anything right but when it came down to it it was pretty simple.  
He groans out a protest as Dean pulls him closer, and he can't hide the choking sound he makes every time Dean thrusts his hips forward; he can't pull away, his attempt to do so is foiled by Dean's strong grip on the belt, holding him in place. So he tries to follow the other's advice, relaxing his jaw and then trying to remember to breathe...the air heavy through his nose.  
Dean tells him to keep touching himself, and Castiel looks up toward the other man, wide eyed.  
He couldn't think straight, could hardly concentrate on anything other than trying to take Dean's rough thrusting down his throat, and now he was expected to touch himself again... to give himself pleasure while accepting this kind of treatment seemed just that much more wrong, but he does what he's told anyway, maybe it's become habit at this point. He struggles with the attempt of multitasking trying to take Dean's cock while hesitatingly stroking his own, finding that his member /hadn't /gone soft in the time that he had stopped stroking it..He doesn't want to consider the reasons why that might be.  
Castiel couldn't help but to wonder what this so called 'reward' was that Dean has promised for him, maybe the word was just used to give the priest some sort of sense of security before he was degraded again in some other way. He wasn't sure if he wanted to find out.

 

Dean's breath shudders, and he roughly grips at the back of Castiel's head once more for balancing support, fingers pulling the dark strands there. He knew he wouldn't last too much longer, orgasm nearing with each thrust down the priests tight throat. Castiel's mouth was more then welcoming from the start, and not to mention /hot/ around his cock. He definitely planned on keeping this priest around for awhile; keeping him safe for his own pleasure.

 

The demon, from the very beginning, knew he wasn't going to last nearly as long as he would normally. The rhythm of his hips became uneven and hesitant, unsure of the precise time he was going to come. “Shit,” he gasps out, the knife nearly slipping from his grasp, “I think, I'm – im gonna come.” Dean draws out as many thrusts as he possibly can down Castiel's throat before he pulling his cock from his mouth. His length is soaked with salvia, a single string of spit connects from the priests mouth to the tip of Dean's cock.  
The demons struggling moans slip passed his quivering, parted lips as he hurriedly stroked at his slick cock. Thick ropes of white partly cover Castiel's chin before Dean's, greedily, thrusting back inside his slackened mouth. He releases his hot seed /deep/ down the priests throat, and moves his hand from the back of his head to his chin, tilting his head upwards. “Make sure to swallow it all, father.” Dean's thumb gathers the remaining cum from Castiel's chin and pushes it into his mouth, alongside his cock. “Once you're done, lick my cock clean.” He lazily smirks, gazing down at the helpless priest.

Castiel keeps his eyes open, somehow, sickeningly captured by the twisted expression of Dean's face. He continues to stroke his own cock, hands shaking slightly with the effort. Although the priest had engaged in acts of masturbation he had never enjoyed it as much as Dean seemed too, he didn't always let himself go too far, let himself finish, it would become too much and he would stop himself, taking a cold shower and whispering for his forgiveness.  
He could count the orgasms he's had on one hand.  
Suddenly Dean is pulling away, and Castiel gasps, breath heavy, watching the blur of Dean's hand as it flies with practice over his cock, and then as the white substance shoots out the tip of Dean's cock, he feels it splattering onto his skin. Before he can gather his senses or catch his breath, the thickness of Dean's cock is shoved unceremoniously down his throat once again, the priest groaning against him.  
Then, without warning, his mouth is filled with substance, salt and musk and Castiel gasps around his still stuffed mouth. The cum covers his tongue and trickles down his throat and he nearly pulls away to rid it from his system until Dean forces his head upwards. By now, Cas knew that Dean got what he wanted, and he's sure there would be consequence for anything otherwise, he couldn't pull away, and he knew the only thing he could do to finally have his mouth as his own again was to listen.  
So he swallows, closing his eyes and whimpering softly as he feels the thick cum, still warm, slide down his throat. Hesitantly he pulls away, his tongue gliding on the underside of Dean's cock to 'clean' it, though the member is still slick with Castiel's saliva as he finally pulls his mouth free, chest heaving as he attempts to normalize his breath.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean merely stares down at the priest in awe, observing the way his tongue lavished his softening cock. He's still coming down from his high, panting softly as his fingers comb through the dark, damp stands of hair, he'd previously been holding onto for dear life. His breath hitches in his throat, feeling the familiar velvety, wet tongue lick the underside of his sensitive cock.  
“Such a good boy,” the demon sighs the praise, and liberates Castiel; both the hand in his hair and the one gripping the belt, functioning as a leash of sorts, around the other mans neck is released. “Definitely didn't expect to receive such a good blowjob from a virgin.” The compliment could've been considered as a mockery by the tone of voice he used to speak, but nevertheless Dean meant it be a compliment of sorts. He was impressed with Castiel, however, he wasn't finished with him. Not by a long shot.  
“But... unfortunately for you. I'm not quite done with you yet, father. Though, I'm sure you'll enjoy this next part,” he sighs and effortlessly crouches down in front of the priest, kneeling in the process. Dean cradles the side of Castiel's face with one palm, thumb gently gliding over his cheek. Fake sympathy glistens in the demons emerald hues as he looks at him, then briefly they flicker down to the hardened erection between his thighs. “Looks like you have a lot to offer down there,” he chuckles without a trace of sarcasm, and after a short moment it fades.  
“Take off your shirt, and lay back. I'll take care of the rest.” Dean pulls his hand back and comfortably sits down on his backside. “I think I'm going to keep you around for awhile,” he says, resting the knife on the floor next to him, hand curling around it's handle at the ready in case Castiel decided to play dumb and try to run.

 

Castiel falls back as he's released from Dean's hold, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand, and absolutely not looking anywhere near Dean. Shame rises back to encompass him. He tries not to flinch at Dean's virgin comment, he didn't think he /wanted/ to be good at what he had done...and he didn't want the compliment no matter if it was mocking or not; he could still taste the salt on his tongue, could still smell the musky maleness of the other's cock something that was worriedly not unpleasant. 

His stomach drops, he was hoping, perhaps naively, that all Dean wanted was to get off, that when he had his release he would allow Castiel to live for doing a good job, and then leave. Castiel could pray and hope for forgiveness...he could call the cops, maybe someone would find Dean and put him away before he found someone else to do this to.  
Dean's hand on his cheek, gentle once again, snaps him back to attention, and blue connects with green...a look there in the other's eyes that was too kind for Castiel to believe. The priest shifts, uncomfortably, at Dean's gaze..instinctively moving his hand in the need to cover himself again, stupid considering everything, but he couldn't help it. Whereas Dean seemed to have no qualms about being nude, Castiel could not say that he was the same way.

Castiel leans back, mirroring Dean's positioning by sitting down on his bottom, at least it was something to be off of his knees, his legs ached from being in the kneeled position for so long, and he stretches the long limbs out in front of himself in relief. His fingers tremble as he brings them to the small buttons that hold his black dress shirt together. "What.." he finally speaks up again, his voice is hoarse, "What more do you want?"

 

“Oh, c'mon now, father...” He sighs. “I thought that we were passed the whole 'trusting each other' stage. I trust you— I put my faith in you not to bite my dick off, and oh,” Dean's eyes flicked down to his own cock, acting like he was shocked to see it there. “Would you look at that. My dicks still there.” A wide, toothy grin plays across his lips when he looked back over at the priest across from him. “And better then ever, might I add.” Dean was blatantly just screwing with Castiel now.

The demon continues to carefully observe the man across from him, noticing the stiffness in his actions. He could hardly recall him being down on his knees for /that/ long to cause pain, but then again, time flies when you're having fun. Dean waits until Castiel is sitting comfortably on the floor with his legs stretched out in front of him. Then, he grips the knife again and crawls into the priests lap, straddling his thighs, leaving enough room to easily access his hard erection.  
“What more do I want?” He repeats Castiel's question in disbelief. “I want.... I want to please you, father." Dean says, all fake innocence, "I think it's only fair... considering you did such a good job for me.” Dean lifts the blade to the buttons to the priests shirt, “-and I think it'd be rather impolite to refuse such an offer...” the blade presses against the back of Castiel's hands, “Now start unbuttoning or I'm going to start carving— starting with the back of your hand here.” He slices the skin there as a warning, and crimson immediately begins leaking from the wound.

 

Castiel leans back, instinctively as Dean crawls on top of him, but there's hardly anywhere he can move to. He swallows, eyes flickering up to look at the other despite himself. Dean was so close the priest could see a splatter of light freckles on his skin. 

Castiel scoffs at Dean's words. Please him? None of this was about Castiel's pleasure, everything was Dean getting his kicks. But he's quickly regretting making the sound as Dean brings the knife in the middle of them.  
The blade presses against the back of his hand and he gasps, part surprise part pain, pulling his hand back away from the source of pain. The knife had always been a threat, but a part of Castiel didn't think Dean would actually use it, that it was more of an incentive to get the priest to keep doing what he was told. It wasn't a bad cut, similar to one you might find on someone with a too rowdy cat, but it was enough of a warning for Castiel to bring his fingers back to work on the buttons without another word.  
He made his way through the buttons, eyes downcast, before finally pulling the shirt from his shoulders and letting it fall on the ground behind him, leaving only the leather belt hanging on his neck. Castiel was smaller than Dean in size, but he wasn't exactly a frail thing either. His muscles were more lean-the kind that was kept up through physical tasks more than any kind of weight lifting- he was the one who took care of everything at the church, he had even constructed the pews in this very room. And long ago, he used to run track.

 

The priest puts his hands behind himself on the floor, both to support himself and because he had no idea what else to do with them. He forces himself to look up at Dean, the obedient again waiting for his next order.

 

The demon casts a dark, mischievous gaze down Castiel a now fully exposed torso. He was so much more tan than Dean imagined he'd be, considering the wardrobe choice he had to wear as a priest. And not only was Castiel's skin more golden than he expected, but underneath the black dress shirt, he was actually packing something. Dean didn't hesitate to place his hand against the priests toned chest, trailing it downwards over his taut abdomen.

“So much firmer than I thought you'd be,” he mumbles lowly, and continues to explore Castiel's body as if he were a curious child. This must've been his first time being this exposed to someone other than himself, and Dean took satisfaction in that. He didn't bother asking Castiel if this was indeed his first time letting anyone see him this vulnerable because he already knew the answer. “You have such a beautiful body. It's a shame you cover it up everyday,” he says as his eyes travel further down to Castiel's cock, “so much to offer, and you choose to cover it all up.”  
Dean takes the others thick shaft into his palm and begins to expertly stroke at it's length; he couldn't wait to have Castiel inside him. With the other hand, the demon reaches for his bunched up jeans beside them and pulls out a small tube of lubricant. Dean could have probably been capable of taking Castiel's cock with simply costing it in spit, but he didn't have the patience to bend over and suck his dick. Instead, he flips the tubes cap open and pours the clear liquid into his palm, then massages the lubricant onto Castiel's cock.

“Y'know, father. You don't have to hold back. You can touch me... I know you must be curious.” Dean leans forward, placing a chaste kiss on the priests lips. “I want you to touch me,” he encourages with a somewhat needy whimper in his tone.

Castiel felt his nakedness under Dean's gaze, and he wonders if this is how Addam must have felt upon first discovering his own naked form in Eden. Self conscious. His breath hitches as Dean's fingers make their way across his bare skin, "It's prideful.." he mutters in reply, "-to think of one's body as attractive...and to show one's self off. A man's pride will bring him low, But a humble spirit will obtain honor." He rambles out the proverb without thinking it was so common to him to recite.

But when Dean grabs his naked cock in his hand and begins stroking, Castiel doesn't even know if he could name the first book in the Bible. He sucks in a breath, eyes falling down to the sight of Dean's hand pumping his erection- it was a different feeling than his own hand, when he touched himself he did so with shame and worry, Dean's hand was practiced, he was uninhibited.  
Castiel didn't even realize that Dean had grabbed something out of his bag until his cock was being coated in something slippery and the priest can't even attempt to hide the moan that falls from his lips, mouth agape.  
The words to touch Dean wasn't a demand, Castiel knew what a demand sounded like from Dean's lips, but this was more of a plea, he sounded more like the broken man that Castiel had very first encountered in the confessional. And, well, who was to say that Dean /wasn't/ broken?

In actuality, only someone so broken would be capable of doing what Dean had done, was doing. He was still a lost soul.  
The priest hated how right the other man was, he hated how he /was/ curious. He wants to know what Dean's skin felt like against his fingers, he wants to know what it would be like to surrender himself to the pleasure and get lost in it.  
Unfocused eyes flicker up towards Dean upon the kiss on his lips.  
He couldn't think straight..  
Everything felt /good/. And Dean could make Castiel touch him if he wanted to. So, wouldn't it be better to just do it on his own accord? He reaches out, tentatively brushing fingers across Dean's cheekbone, down his chiseled jawline before he leans in returning his lips against Dean's full ones.

 

It was almost like Dean was a whole other person, sitting in Castiel's lap. Not only was he lost in those innocent, blue orbs that belonged to the man underneath him, but he was consumed in the desire. There was the urge to praise, touch and trace ever inch of his golden skin, feel the firmness under his fingertips. However, there was also another urge deep within Dean. His demented side wanted to make Castiel his masterpiece. He wanted carve and slice into Castiel's flesh, and watch the crimson seep from the folds of his sliced skin. But he couldn't just disfigure such a beautiful body, it'd only be a waste that way. So, if Dean couldn't destroy perfection... he'd keep it and let nobody else have it. Castiel was his, alone.  
Dean knew his seductive words were having their toll on the priest, just by the way Castiel was looking at him now. It wasn't just out of hate and dismay but there was also interest glistening in those blue hues. He could tell the man was giving into the pleasure, not many could resist Dean, at least not for very long. Perks of having an attractive body and beautiful face, and knowing what the hell you're doing when it came to sex.  
He leans into Castiel's tender touch. Gentleness was something Dean was from from use to, whether it was himself riding someone, or a stranger fucking him face down into a motel mattress. Rough sex was all he was ever use to; intimacy was completely and utterly foreign to him. Not that he minded, rough sex was fucking fantastic.

Dean kisses Castiel back, moving his plush lips against his. He'd admit, for someone who hasn't experienced much kissing in their life, Castiel was /good/. Whilst their lips are connected, the demon carefully shuffles the black trousers down Castiel's thighs, passed his knees. He crawls back into the priests lap, but this time Dean's hovering over his slick cock and he reaches back to slip a lubricated finger inside his hole. A small groan emits passed Dean's lips, “Can't wait until you're inside me.” A second finger slides in alongside the other one, and he slowly begins scissoring himself open for Castiel's cock. “I'm gonna rock your world, priest.”

He shouldn't do this, no, this was a step too far, to give in to all of this..but Dean's lips are soft and his hand is skilled and Castiel is tired, so tired of pretending and resisting and trying. 

'So I say walk by the Spirit and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh.'

Castiel had tried his entire life to follow the scriptures, they were the word of God and therefore truth, however, no matter how hard he tried it never seemed like enough, it never seemed like /he/ was enough.  
He had walked by the Spirit, had he not? And yet, these desires remained. 

'but each person is tempted when they are dragged away by their own evil desire and enticed.Then, after desire has conceived, it gives birth to sin; and sin, when it is full-grown, gives birth to death.'

So maybe this was his temptation. He certainly felt like he was being dragged away, chasing the white rabbit down into an upside down Wonderland. 

So, he should stop, right?

 

Despite the war going on in his head, Castiel allows his fingers to travel down, to trace along the muscles in Dean's chest, feeling the firmness of his body, allows himself to move his lips into the kiss. Dean's tugging down his pants and Castiel wouldn't be surprised if his heart burst right out of his chest with the speed it was racing.  
Their lips part, and the priest is watching with wide eyed curiosity as Dean reaches behind himself, he couldn't get a good look from his position but if he wasn't mistaken...  
Oh.  
Castiel had almost assumed it would be the other way around, that Dean would...take him, and he's rather relieved to hear that Dean is planning something quite different, although the way Dean spoke about it made it seem like something desirable. "Is that...does that, feel good?"

 

Under the circumstances, anyone would have logically presumed that the demon would've been the one between the priests thighs, prodding him open with thick fingers. However, in this case there was a small change in plans. Dean obviously preferred to be the superior one when it came to torturing and controlling his victims, but when it came down to the sex... he much rather be the one taking it up the ass. Sure, sometimes he had the impulse to completely dominate someone, but nothing could compare to a thick cock repeatedly spreading him open.  
Impatient whines leak from the back of the demons throat as he nibbles at his bottom lip as his two digits pump in and out of his hole, stretching his rim. It's been months since he's last been fucked and the anticipation was clawing at him. Dean's gaze falls upon Castiel after the question is asked, a lopsided smile forms on his lips.  
“Yeah...– it feels good,” he gasps out, a rather pleased, dopey expression on his face as he pants. His fingertips just /barely/ brush over his prostate, and it sends jolts through Dean's body, that felt similar to electricity. The demon gasps, thighs trembling. “S-some men prefer bottoming... some prefer topping, and,” he gulps, “for some, like it either way.” Dean knew he his explanation was vague, but he couldn't bother going into detail with his current position. He just wanted Castiel inside him.

Whilst the demon fingers himself, lube begins to trickle down his inner thighs. And after several long moments of stretching his rim, Dean draws his digits from his loosen hole. He leans back to grip Castiel's dick, stoking it once— twice, and he guides the tip to his entrance. “Go on,” he encourages, leading Castiel's other hand to his hip before Dean leans forward to whisper in his ear. “Make me sit.”

 

Castiel furrows his eyebrows at the unfamiliar terms, but he's much too distracted by Dean's sounds and expressions to think about asking what they meant.  
The priest watches, almost mesmerized at Dean, the way he bit at his lip, all the whines and groans spilling from his lips..sounds that made Castiel's cock twitch with a unadmitted interest. He was almost mad that he couldn't see the full angle of what Dean was doing to himself.  
Dean was beautiful, he thought, not for the first time, and it was easy for him to forget everything that had brought them here, everything Dean had done. He hated how easy he was to be bought over by the pleasure of flesh.  
The truth of the matter was, he wanted to know, his cock was hard and aching and he groans deep at the whisper Dean breathes into his ear, maybe now he was just too far gone.  
He lets his hand be guided with ease, and his fingers dig into the skin on the other's hips. The tip of his cock was pressed, waiting, against Dean's hole..again, Castiel thought of Eden..this time being the temptation of the Apple. How delicious the fruit must have looked to Eve, but /damn him/ it couldn't have been as good as this. He pulls on Dean's hips, the tip of his cock making slow entrance; tight and hot. He pulls further, some instinct or need telling him to push up his own hips and he does so, sending him deeper into the other man. Castiel's moan is guttural, jaw slack as if he's surprised..and well, he kind of is.

 

Dean's emerald hues flicker over the priests handsome features, mesmerizing the scruffy, sharp edge of his jawline whilst waiting for him to make the first move. At this point, Dean is hardly forcing Castiel into doing anything he didn't already /want/. Pretty much after the blowjob, Castiel had been doing everything out of his own free-will... with the demons guidance, of course.  
Although, it didn't look like Castiel was going to need much instruction or supervision for too much longer – the guy was a natural.  
Dean's shocked by the firm hold on his waistline, clearly he'd underestimated the priest. Castiel's grip was far more rough than predicted. He imagined Castiel's hand to be gentler, less confident, and more on the nervous, shaky side. Damn, was he ever wrong. But there was a part of Dean that /knew/ he needed this, he needed to feel defeat. He needed Castiel.

The demon doesn't resist the pressure on his hips, instead he obeys the priests touch. Inch by inch, Dean could feel Castiel's impressive length beginning to penetrate his needy hole that was just begging to be stuffed full. “Fuck, yes,” he gasps, and his arms loosely enfold around the priests neck. Dean was too far gone, too lost in the desperation to withhold his sinister facade. “Father!” He yelps when Castiel thrusts up /deeper/ inside of his hole.

The demon weaves his fingers through the others dark strands at the base of his hairline, at the back of his neck. He grips the hair firmly before tugging, perhaps the gentlest tug he'd given Castiel. “How does it feel, hmm?” Dean asks in a breathy tone of voice by Castiel ear, and he purposely clenches around his cock. “Is it warm?” He purrs weakly licking upside the shell of Castiel's ear before slowly rolling his hips. Dean grinds himself against his lap, “thrust up inside me again,” along the lines, he's begging for it.

 

Dean was tight and hot around him, slick and wet from the lube he had coated onto Castiel's cock, and he understands now why that had been a good idea. The other male cried out, and Castiel had nearly stopped in the thought that he had somehow hurt him but part of him, part of him still feels that want for vengeance, that need to /hurt/ Dean, and well he was certainly in the perfect position to do that wasn't he? His fingers dig tighter into Dean's skin without even thinking.

 

Castiel moans, loudly, as Dean's hole clenches around him, pulling impossibly tighter around his thickness. "Fa-ah." He mutters out a sound before he remembers how to form words. "It..it's so.. yes." He gasps out, all the words he could manage. 

He shivers, feeling Dean's tongue on the side of his ear and then Dean is rolling his hips, moving deliciously against the priests cock buried inside him, Cas moans head falling backwards.

He wanted more, he was desperate and hungry for what he had a taste of, and Dean was nothing if not tempting. He moves his hips upward, the way he had before, and, discovering that he liked that, repeated the action a second time-third. 

Castiel was like a spring, coiled and ready to pop out, years of repression and holding back building up inside him. And then there was anger, anger at himself, anger at /Dean/, anger at God himself.  
Something in him still wanted to say no, to stop, to do what was supposed to be the right thing, and he stills, whimpering softly in his struggle.

Pride fluttered in Dean's chest, knowing that /he/ was the source of Castiel's pleasure, and that /he/ was the reason for his loss of words. Dean knew that if he hadn't shown up to the sermon, Castiel would be doing his same old routine he did every evening after a sermon. Praying alone in the church, asking the lord to forgive not only his sins but the sins of others, blah, blah, blah... and once he was finished praying he'd clean the church, then return home and probably do some more praying there.  
Fuck, it was a good thing he showed up. The thought of all that praying made Dean nauseous, and it seemed like a real bore. Tonight he spiced things up for the priest. Castiel was not only in the process of losing his virginity, but he also discovered his natural gift of giving mind-blowing blowjobs!

The demon could feel the grip on his hips tighten, which earned a low whimper from Dean. He loved being covered in the scratches, hickeys and the bruises his partners gave him by digging their fingertips or nails into his flesh. Therefore, Castiel was giving Dean exactly what he wanted, and when he began thrusting up into him that only added to the euphoria. “You feel so good,” he practically sobs into Castiel's shoulder, feeling his length rub up against that sensitive bundle of nerves deep inside. “Stretching me so wide with your cock...”

However, his euphoria faded when the motions inside of him came to a /too sudden/ halt. Castiel was beginning to piss Dean off. “W-hats wrong?” He breathlessly asks the question, and he pulls away so that he could look him eye to eye.  
“Father, if you're having second thoughts... I think it's a little late for that,” he pants, gaze falling to the priests pink, full lips, “-you can't take back what's already done, and God won't forgive you for this. You might as well finish what /we/ started. Take what I'm giving you.” Dean slowly begins rotating his hips in a circular motion, in an attempt to pull Castiel from his thoughts. “Don't you like what I'm giving you?” Leaning forward, Dean kisses the priest again, hand coming up to cup his cheek.

'God won't forgive you for this'  
Right about then, those words seemed to be true, as much as Castiel wanted to argue, he felt too much guilt to think of a proper argument.  
'What /we/ started'. Castiel's eyes narrow. No, /he/ hadn't started any of this, he didn't ask Dean to come here, he didn't ask to be threatened into this position at knife point.  
The knife.

Castiel notices, suddenly, that the dangerous object was no where to be seen in Dean's occupied hands. It had been dropped and forgotten somewhere along the line of force and succumbing.  
So, maybe a part of Dean's words were true. The last thing he was really /forced/ into was unbuttoning his shirt, everything else he did because it felt good.  
He gasps out as Dean moves against him. Cursing silently at himself for doing so.  
And now, the priest was just pissed.  
Dean wanted him to let go? Well then, maybe he should listen.  
He presses into Dean's kiss with a new found heat, practically growling as he takes Dean's bottom lip in his teeth and bites down hard enough to taste blood.  
"/You/ did this." He spits out the blame, fingers still pressed bruisingly tight into Dean's hips as he thrusts into him, bringing his feet flat on the floor for more stability-he still had his shoes on he realizes his pants and undergarments lay at his ankles where Dean was too impatient or too uncaring to take them completely off.  
Castiel moves his hips again..again and again with no stop in sight this time, white hot desperation and anger in his actions that make him push harder.  
Dean was perfect to take his frustrations out on.  
Dean deserved it.

 

Dean can actually say, that he's taken by surprise with the priests next actions. The last thing he had expected from him was to grow a pair and take any sort of control over the situation. Until now, Castiel has only been tagging along, doing as the demon demanded. Dean hadn't expected him to bite down on his lip, hard enough to draw blood.  
His tongue swipes over his bloody lip, tasting the coppery substance, that leaked from the torn flesh. Emerald hues flicker to the priests face, Dean's expression both, slightly confused and offended – like Castiel had just said something rude.  
“You bit me,” he murmured, ignoring what Castiel had just said. “That fucking hurt.” Out of all the damn things he could've done to hurt him, and he decided to go with biting him? Dean knew he was the one who started this, he just wanted to screw with the priest was all.  
The demon grimaces then, gasping, when Castiel's thrusts up inside of him. Inflicting pain and receiving pain were two completely different standing points, and Dean wasn't use to anything besides inflicting it.  
“Son of a bitch!” He gasps out, attempting to growl afterwards but inside whimpers are drawn out of him. His bottom lip quivers at the pain, and brings a hand up to Castiel's right wrist, wrapping his palm around it. “Ea-s...” Dean almost slips up by telling the priest to be /easy/, but he doesn't. Instead he endures it, and to a degree he's actually intrigued by Castiel's aggressive behaviour. He sucks on his bottom lip, swallowing back his submissive nature and allows the priest to take his frustrations out on him.  
Without warning, Dean's rolling over onto his back and in the process he pulls Castiel over top of him. He shivers feeling the cool wooden blanks against his skin, Dean looks up at the priest. “Fuck me,” he orders, yet his tone of voice again isn't demanding but it's more of a plea.

 

For one split second, a new wave of terror swept over the priest. He had acted out, and surely there would be some sort of consequence. But Dean doesn't stop him. The hand grabbing at his wrist doesn't seem like a warning, the fingers aren't tight enough, and Cas /knew/ dean could stop him. He doesn't stop, though, encouraged by the curses and grimaces that spills from Dean's lips and flashes on his face, Castiel got a sick pleasure at hurting him  
Maybe he was no better than Dean himself.

He gasps, surprised as he's being flipped, ending up hovering over the other male. Castiel stares for a moment, breathless and wide eyed, Dean's naked body was offered for the taking and he was beautiful down there with the need in his eyes, and the red on his lips where Castiel had bit him. With Dean like this, a plea disguised as an order on his lips, Castiel had never felt more powerful.

He doesn't hesitate again, and he shudders as he thrusts his hips, slow, trying to get accustomed to the new position. He slides back then pushes himself in again moaning at the tight heat enveloping him.  
He could have never imagined this feeling, the experiences with his hand more than paled in comparison.  
He's slower now as he moves, grinding himself into Dean, not ripping and moving with anger but rather getting lost in the pleasure of what his movements do.

 

Truly, it seemed like he didn't even need to go the extra mile to coerce the priest into doing anything at this point. Castiel had clearly surrendered himself over to the demons immoral acts, and was now indulging in the pleasure. Dean could say that he was satisfied with the outcome, with his corruption over the priest. He was giving Castiel exactly what nobody in their right mind could go without. Lust, it was all apart of human nature, and not even a priest could go on forever a virgin. Sex was just too tempting, and who's to say that even if Dean hadn't forced Castiel into this, someone else wouldn't?  
Dean obscenely gazes up at the man above him, tongue peeking out to wet his lips, blood drying there. It was hard for him to even believe that Castiel was a virgin in the first place, he was too attractive. Dean could only imagine the amount of women who fancied him, who went home after the sermon and laid beneath their husbands, thinking of the pastors blue eyes and strong jawline while they 'made love' to their husbands. Too bad Castiel was his, and if /anyone/ looked at what belonged to him in a lecherous manner, Dean would literally rip their throats out.

 

The demon gasps out the priests name when he thrusts back inside of him, and his legs wrap around his waist, pulling Castiel impossibly closer. “Yes, yes, yes!” He chants, brokenly, leaning his head back. Rough sex was what Dean was evidently more use to, but he was enjoying Castiel's slow thrusts just as much. Not only was he stretching Dean wide, but he could feel Castiel's cock rubbing up against his prostate with each roll of his hips. This sent jolts of pleasure right through his body, resulting in Dean's trembling thighs.

“More,” he groans, and slides his hands down Castiel's sides until his palms are on either side of the base of his spine. Dean then, digs his fingernails into the flesh there. His blunt nails rake up and over Castiel's shoulder-blades then back down his taut back muscles. Red marks form down the priests back, even specks of blood surface on some of these scratches. “Fuck– harder, father...”

 

Castiel chokes on a curse as Dean's legs wrap around him, burying his cock to the hilt inside the other and he stills, if only for a moment, feeling the wet tightness enveloping his erection. One of his hands moves to grip onto Dean's thigh, the other laying flat down onto the ground to hold himself steady.  
He cries out, then, as Dean's nails scratch into him, digging so deep that Castiel is sure there will be marks, and at this point he's pretty sure his whole body is covered in scratches and bruises, but the pain melds and dances with the pleasure in a way that Castiel would be more intrigued about if his mind wasn't so lost right now. He moans, eyes closed, jaw slack, soon his head drops, and it's ironically close to a look of praying but his actions are anything but as he drives himself into Dean. 

All of his life Castiel was the one following orders, he was like a soldier, doing exactly what he was told. Following his father's words, God's words, the church's. 

He wouldn't have been surprised if he had done everything Dean had told him to without the knife the other had possessed.  
But now, right now, he had a taste of some kind of power, Dean might have been in charge before but really Castiel was the one controlling his pleasure now, and something told the priest that he could be the one to make Dean do what /he/ wanted.  
He wanted to test it.  
The priest lifts his head and opens up his eyes, blue hues flickering across the pleasure etched into the other's features.  
"Say Please"

 

The thought hadn't even occurred to Dean until just now. He never did care to mention the minuscule detail of him being a /demon/ to Castiel, had he? Oops. Confess to being a deranged psychopath, the numerous murders and the mutilations of the victims of course, but forget to mention the whole being possessed by a demon thing.  
Maybe he should come clean and reveal the fact that he's not only a murderer, but an abomination. Although... Dean didn't quite want Castiel to stop yet, or even attempt to throw bible verses at him. He finally had the priest in the palm of his hand; in the exact position he wanted him in. Maybe waiting to tell him was the better option, maybe even get a kick out of Castiel's expression once he realizes he not only fucked a psycho, but a creature not of God. 

Yeah... he'd wait until they were finished, let Castiel enjoy the upper-hand while he had it.  
Dean's head rolls back and he moans to each one of Castiel's thrusts inside of him. The innocent man deep within wanted to cry out from the pleasure he was receiving, but the demon wouldn't have it. His fingernails continuously claw at the priest back, red scratches must've been scattered all along Castiel's back by now. Dean wanted /more/, harder and faster thrusts, and his dick was hard again from the priests length rubbing up against his prostate. He reaches down, gasping as his hand wraps around his slightly over sensitive shaft and he strokes.

 

What the priest says shocks Dean. Castiel wanted him to say please? The demon hesitates, staring up at him for a moment. He was debating whether to give in or just threaten him again, then again, giving in would've been the easier route. “P-please fuck me harder, father,” he gasps. Dean's one hand stays on Castiel's back and his fingers grip his shoulder blade. His thighs loosen around the other males waist and spread wide, giving Castiel more access.

 

Honestly, Castiel didn't know what he was expecting, he just wanted to see if Dean would listen to him, if he could get the other to say what he wanted. He's surprised to get the please, with only a hesitation before it comes as a stutter on Dean's lips.  
A small smirk quirks on Castiel, feeling a strange sense of triumph at his success.  
"See, how easy it is to be nice." He murmurs before giving Dean what he wanted and what, god help him, Castiel needed.  
As he thrusts harder, the obscene sound of skin slapping together seemed to echo in the church, Castiel's breath too heavy in the emptiness.  
How could he ever come back from something like this? So easily giving into the sins of the flesh. There was no way he could carry on as usual, giving sermons and pretending like he was so pure and holy when he was just the opposite.  
All of that, though, was hard to care about with his cock buried to the hilt in Dean's ass, moving back and forth into the wet heat, it was too good. 

He didn't know how much longer he would be able to last this way, his pleasure building and building, his stomach twists. Was he supposed to stop? Pull away? His muscles quiver in the effort of holding himself back, his hips stuttering in their movement  
"Dean..." he gasps out, "I'm.. I-"

 

His second orgasm was nearing much quicker than his previous. Cock having been already oversensitive from the blowjob he'd received from the priest earlier. Castiel's fat cock repeatedly splitting him open again and again, stimulating his prostate, wasn't helping much either with lasting long. Not that Dean minded. He relished in the sensations of having a large dick up his ass, pummelling his abused prostate over and over again.  
The priests length was by far his favourite; so innocent and unsure. Dean would say pure, but... that would be an over-exaggeration. Castiel's dick was too far up his ass for him to describe the priest as /pure/. The demon absolutely adored being Castiel's first. Something about it made Dean feel clean – he's never fucked around with anyone as holy before.  
“Don't expect me to say please every time you ask.” Unfortunately his tone of voice betrayed him, sounding weak. However, Dean couldn't bring himself to correct himself or carry on talking, too invested in the intercourse.  
A vulnerable gasp slips passed the demons lips as Castiel begins picking up his pace. Dean's jaw literally drops open. He wants to cry out and sob, give into the pleasure completely, but the demon feared the priest mistaking his pleasure for weakness. His rim flutters around Castiel's girth and he moans, drawing his legs back while keeping them spread wide.  
The sound of skin slapping against skin filling the church was enough to push Dean off the edge. Thick ropes of white squirt over his abdomen, between their bodies. He cried out in the process.  
Fuck it... Castiel was already fucking him into submission. He might as well enjoy the ride.  
The demon gazes up at the man above him and he grins, realizing that the priest was going to cum soon. Dean presses his fingertips into Castiel's lower back, pulling him in closer. “I-it's okay,” he barely manages to form his words, “y-ou can cum inside me.” Sex was a common thing with Dean, however, Castiel was the first that he didn't make wear a condom.  
He leaned upward to whisper against Castiel's ear, “fill my hole with your seed,” he smirks, and nibbles on his earlobe.

 

'Don't expect me to say please every time you ask.'  
That, of course, suggested that /this/ was not a one time thing, and that was an incredibly conflicting thought. On one hand, it meant he would be living, that Dean didn't plan on killing him after this event; on the other hand, it meant Dean would come back, it meant more sex ....Castiel hated how he wasn't upset enough by that revelation; because /damn/ this was so good.  
He doesn't quite know how he went so long without it and he certainly didn't know if he could again, now that he's had this taste. But Dean, he tries to remind himself, was a /bad/ guy. It was increasingly hard to remember with the guy making him feel so great, with all those moans and gasps leaving his beautiful lips.  
Castiel was in trouble.  
He buries his thoughts into his actions, managing to thrust a few more times until Dean is nibbling at his ear, whispering filth that makes the priest groan. He doesn't bother to argue-he didn't think he could right now- and he cums, grinding against Dean through his orgasm before he finishes and stills, cock still pushed inside the other. Dean's hole was impossibly wet-lubricated by Castiel's own cum and the priest could, shamefully, feel his cock wanting to harden again.  
It was the last thing he wanted to do, pull out of that intoxicating wet heat, but he manages to do it anyway and pulls away from the other. Castiel's skin was coated in a sheen of sweat, swallowing as he attempts to regulate his breath. He opens his eyes, that he doesn't remember closing as he looks down at Dean, staring in a kind of fascination at the sight of the other male, looking positively wrecked with streaks of semen coating his stomach, his hole leaking Castiel's...there was something beautiful about the sight.  
If he didn't think so before, he was definitely going to hell now.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean was positively sweating bullets for his efforts. His plan had been originally to use the priest for his own greedy pleasure, but he also wanted to give Castiel a first time sexual experience that he would /remember/. He wanted to be the first thing to pop up in the priests mind when he touched himself at night, and to be the first thing he'd dream of at night.  
The demon rarely became possessive over his victims, since he'd usually kill them in the matter of hours. But Castiel was different. Dean didn't want to kill him, he wanted to... keep him. If anyone were to touch him, look at him or even think of Castiel in a way Dean didn't like he'd slit their throats. Castiel was his and his alone until he was finished with him.  
A sudden mewl erupts from the demon as he feels the last few thrusts from the priest until he's spilling inside of him. “Good boy,” he moans, feeling Castiel's warm release coating his inner walls. Dean bites his bottom lip as he milks Castiel's cock, clenching his muscles around it's girth. He leans his head back, smile proudly spread across plump lips as he waits out Castiel's orgasm.  
A involuntary whimper rumbles in the back of his throat when he feels the priest pull away, leaving Dean feeling... empty. He always hated when the sex ended, missing the full feeling inside of him. However, for Castiel he'd give him once last sight to really remember until the next time. Reaching down towards his hole, Dean scoops a small amount of cum onto his fingertips, that had leaked out of his used hole. Then, he presses them into his mouth, sucking the warm substance from his own fingers into his mouth. Thereafter, he grins, mumbling a low "delicious" underneath his breath.  
Sitting up, the demon crawls forward onto all fours to give Castiel a brief kiss upon his lips. Uncaring that he'd just sucked cum off them. “Did you enjoy fucking me, father?” He laughs in a mocking manner, tracing his finger underneath Castiel's chin.

Castiel watches, with widened blue hues as Dean tastes the cum the priest had left in the other's hole. He murmurs a curse under his breath, Dean was unpredictable, Castiel was constantly surprised by not only the other's actions, but how he was affected by them. His mouth is dry, and his head is in a dizzy haze as Dean moves to kiss him, tasting like Castiel's own release; something which might have at one point seemed a disgusting thing but the priest had no right to feel such a way anymore.  
Castiel cringes at Dean's mocking tone, the calling /father/ sounded wrong to hear, now. The term father was supposed to be a very spiritual thing, something that showed the connection between the priest and his parish. All the people in his church, like his children, who he taught and guided through the spirit.  
The Bible speaks often of this spiritual fatherhood and it was once something of great honor, a reminder of Castiel's purpose. Now, it just made him sick.  
"Don't call me that.." he murmurs. 

A playful smile lingers on Dean's lips before he reaches for his unforgotten blade, and pushes Castiel against the floor on his back before the priest realizes what's happening.

“Don't scream.” Dean removes his belt from Castiel's neck. 

That's when Castiel notices the knife, reappearing back in Dean's hand like it had never left, and Castiel mentally kicks himself for not grabbing for it when he had the chance.  
Castiel's stomach drops, fear rising back to set into place, and he's stuttering out a "Please.." before the leather belt is being forced into his mouth. 

Green eyes search across Castiel's torso looking for the perfect...— ah.  
Before giving the man anytime to process anything, Dean is delicately sinking the tip of the knife into the flesh above Castiel's heart. “Don't fight, it'll only make things worse for you,” he practically growls as he begins carving the first letter into his chest. Blood seeps from the split folds of flesh as Dean continues to dig the next letter into the priest, enough so that the carvings would scar.

 

Castiel screams, anyway, letting out a strangled yelp somewhere between surprise and pain as Dean takes the knife to his skin.

Still, this didn't appear to be a death sentence, if so Cas would think Dean would carve into him with more abandon, more anger even, this was slower, more concentration.  
Castiel bites down, hard against the leather between his teeth, his fingers scraping against the ground in search of some kind of reprieve, something to grab onto and finding none.

He leans his head back against the ground, blinking back tears and trying to not let himself be lost to the pain. He couldn't, he didn't know what Dean's plan was, didn't know just how long this was going to last, and with the dangerous object so close to his heart, Castiel wasn't about to be stupid enough to try and fight Dean.  
Castiel swallows, a difficult task considering the sob that pushes against his throat, but he's determined not to let Dean get another sound out of him. The priest had lived a very normal life, up until now, a safe life, in fact when he looked back at it the worst physical pain he had ever been in was scraping up his knee when he had fallen off his bike as a child. This, however, couldn't even compare.  
But he had made it this far.

Dean continued to carve the remaining letters of his branding into the other's skin.  
Even after hearing the strangled sob from the body below. His eyebrows furrow together, emerald hues harden in concentration as he works. So help him, if one letter was out of alinement. He'd have to start all over again – would have to choose another area on Castiel's canvas, worthy of branding.  
As much as he was tempted to carve into the priests olive skin... he didn't particularly want to ruin such a smooth, scarless body. Wanting to keep Castiel beautiful for as long as possible.  
Dean's free hand leisurely trails up and over the surface of the others chest before he's gripping at his vulnerable throat. Calloused fingers splay over Castiel's throat, taking precautions by holding him down.  
Once he finishes carving the blade is tossed carelessly elsewhere. He thoughtfully stares down at the bloody concoction on Castiel's chest before leaning downward. His tongue flattens against the inflamed skin and begins to lick the crimson, leaking from the wound, earning a strangled whimper from Castiel. 

Oddly the taste of copper was... satisfying. And in a twisted, fucked up way, the demon was showing affection; trying to soothe the wound.  
When he pulls away, fascination sparkles in those emerald hues. Blood was smeared across his lips and chin, he grins down at Castiel, then licks his lips.

 

In that moment his eyes flicker, inky black, replacing the green the priest was probably use to seeing by now.  
And Castiel's blood runs cold as he looks up at the creature presented in front of him.  
Black eyes.  
Empty.  
Like staring into the void of an endless black hole. Dean grinning with blood painted lips. Looking every bit a monster  
Castiel believed in demons, of course he did, he was /Catholic/ but.. never had he imagined that he would ever come face to face with one, let alone be coerced into sex with such a creature.  
He could do nothing but stare, blue eyes wide and more terrified than ever. 

Pleased with his work, the demon rises to his feet without a word, taking the belt from between the others teeth.

 

"Deus adiuva me" Castiel mumbles, the Latin slipping off his tongue like an instinct.  
He had never performed an exorcism, and right now, he didn't think he had the strength to attempt one, they were said to be very taxing things; the words were more of a prayer to himself than any attempt to save the poor soul the demon must have corrupted.

The demon freezes at the Latin prayer and turns to the priest in disbelief. “God, help you?” He pauses, a grin quirking on his lips.  
“You actually believe in /God/. Still?” He chuckles, shaking his head as he continues to dress himself. “If /God/ gave a damn about you, he would've saved you and not let a /demon/ oppress you.” Oppress. A politer word for rape.  
Dean was fully aware of his actions and what's he's done – he just didn't care. Besides taking advantage of someone wasn't the worst thing he's ever committed.

 

“I'll be back.” Dean scoffs, the threat in his voice returned. The demon gathers his clothes, staring down at the priest, smug expression evident across his features.  
Not only was Castiel seduced a deranged psychopath, but a demon. A creature not of God, but a creation of Satan.

 

Dean has left with his promise, and in a daze Castiel is putting back on his clothes, only unable to find the white collar that Dean had thrown off somewhere. He didn't need it anymore anyway.  
How could he put back on that symbol of purity after he had been /tarnished/ this way.

After making his way back to his small room and putting every barricade possible on his door, he looks in the mirror, taking in his new appearance. The white of his eyes are colored in red, the bruises peek above the collar on his neck. Who's face was this? He didn't know who he was anymore, his reflection disgust him.  
Shaking, his fingers pull open his shirt to find the handiwork of the red cuts in his chest, 'Dean' it read.


End file.
